Losing It
Ministerial Meandering
Losing it
It was four o’clock this morning and I was sitting on the side of my bed listening to the coyotes singing in the fields nearby - one chorus after another. It was beautiful. Gracie slept through it peacefully at the end of our bed. In times gone by she would have joined in, and when she was still a pup, she would have been scratching at the door to go out and join them.
Earlier in the evening I had been working in my den and we had a sudden hail storm. The sound of the ice bouncing off the roof and walls was spectacular, and I opened my window so as not to miss a moment of it.
And then, as usual, I took Gracie out to the yard before we all settled down, and the sky had cleared - completely. I could see the planets - at least, the ones I could recognize - and I am learning to know some of the named stars; is that really Betelgeuse? I was certain that had to be a joke. But it wasn’t.
These are all sights and sounds familiar to us in BC, but I dwelt on other times and other places I have had the good fortune to experience; the sound of a kangaroo bouncing through our tented camp in the Australian bush in the early dawn; the rustle of a giraffe in the African night, feeding off a thorn tree; the calls of sixteen different species of frog around a water hole, and the Jacana stepping stately from one lily-pad to another. The bark of a jackal, the crack of an elephant you still cannot see - all these wonders of nature that stopped me spellbound in my life.
There have been moments of laughter too; the time we had to chase monkeys off our wash-line in Durban; the time Sheila was sweeping out the tiny kitchen of the cottage we lived in on the university campus there, and swept up the geckoes with such efficiency that they left their tails behind. Don’t worry - they grow new ones!
Moments of pain too; to see a young rhino killed, and the body mutilated by having its horn sawn off to satisfy the impotent rich who believe it will stiffen their limp linguini. In Canada, too, the body of a bear in the bush who has had his gall bladder removed by the cruel and ignorant, as some sort of magic potion. Why do humans do this? By all means shoot a bear - but then thank him for being your food, and eat him. Don’t waste his life for half a cup of bile.
Closer to home, I look at your faces in our little church and remember how each of you has given me so much - and continue to do so. I recall how we help each other to grow, and learn to be more accepting of each others faults as we remember our own. I thank you for that. And I thank you for accepting Gracie, who is now so much a part of our services.
I need to remember these things - I cannot afford to lose them. Each one has been a gift that God has given me to enrich my life, and if I can share them with you - then they may enrich your life too.
Philip+